Second Chances
by UnknownPaws
Summary: After the chaos at Crystal Palace, Eric's efforts have gone to waste; Alan is still sick, the souls did nothing, and he is now the face of evil in Reaper Society. Without anyone to turn to, and his own ex shunning him, things just keep getting worse and worse - until the end hits, and everything falls to pieces. But is this really the end of the story? Or the beginning?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is a collab done with author StickieBun :3 I had this idea in my head for a while, and I asked her to help me with it :3 It is an AU, set after The Most Beautiful Death in the World, where both Alan and Eric survive – but life has taken a downwards spiral for poor Eric, and there seems to be no sign of it getting better. **

**Black Butler is owned by Yana Toboso.**

**Rped/co-written with StickieBun.**

**Chapter 1**

They say '_all good deeds will reward the bestower_'.

Eric nearly snorted, standing in front of the sink of the bathroom, cool water flowing from the tap upon his aching hands. Cuts and jagged scrapes covered his palms in mismatched patterns, like the cross hatching on a piece of uncooked meat readied by a butcher, the blood seeping from the wounds in a gentle ooze. It dyed the water a light pink, staining the dirtied white edges of the sink, the latter of which was clustered with fungus and other splotches of molted brown and rusty red; dried blood and other substances. All from him and the ones before him, of whom had probably stood in this very spot, contemplating their worth, life and purpose.

Or in his case, his past, present but never future, for he had no future to ponder. This was it, the end of the road for him; his circumstances to neither get better, never to improve or show a small glimmer of hope towards him. For he was a fallen man, a sinister criminal amongst Reaper kind young and old. His word was filth, and promises all but lies; he was a hated name on every continent, in every country. So he had been told, and so he had witnessed, every day of his life for the past hundred years. To a Reaper, an immortal being, it should have been nothing to bat an eyelash at - and yet hatred itself does a funny thing to the mind and heart.

The years passed slower and slower, until each day was a drag to get through. People glared, coworkers spat, and then Hell itself sprang forth the moment he returned 'home'. Fifty years in prison, enduring the most grueling of punishments, writing letters to his 'beloved' which never got answered, and waiting for the day of his release to freedom. To bad dreams were only bittersweet; instead of going home, he found his belongings and flat sold off, the society moving him into a small 'safe house' in a special neighbourhood for criminals and dangerous figures. 'House' meant a small cabin with only a small section for Eric to occupy - the old musty attic upstairs. That was on good days - if his warden was pissed enough, Eric would be in the damp and pitch black empty basement.

That was the other issue - his 'caretaker'. Instead of coming out to see his 'lover', he saw someone who hated his very guts, someone who screamed and yelled at him - Andrew Dulcath, the security officer in charge of keeping watch on the 'criminal'. Instead of comfort and reassurance, he got beatings and lashes, sometimes for something and others for no reason at all. The man hated him with a passion, but hid it under a mask of professionalism to his colleagues and the society.

The worst part was, the Scotsman was helpless to his whims; the man had made it clear that anything Eric said against him would be futile (for who could believe the word of a liar) and that if the blond even so dared to try and speak one word, he'd be back in prison dealing with torture for the rest of his life. It was enough to shut Eric up. Hearing footsteps storm up the stairs, Eric's head snapped to the door with a fearful expression. Shutting off the water, he wiped his hands clean, backing away in time as Andrew came barging into the room.

-x-

The day had been long, like how most days had grown to be for the small sickly reaper, Alan Humphries. Ever since he had discovered that the man he had fallen in love with, (though he had always hid his true feelings from the Scotsman) had gone to such lengths to chase after a mythical cure to his terminal illness known as the Thorns of Death, the days seemed to just drag by.

It wasn't really what Eric had done, really.

It was flattering, in a twisted way, to know that the man cared so much as to break so many laws for him. He had forgiven Eric for his sins, once he found out why Eric had started killing and collecting souls. The problem came when afterwards, when he had asked Eric to stop, when Eric had promised never to kill like that again so that they could run away together and live out whatever remained of the brunet's existence - that not even an hour after that promise, Eric had tried to kill one last time.

Broke his promise, and Alan's heart, all in one action.

Alan, of course, wouldn't let Eric kill the young Ciel Phantomhive. He'd stepped in at the last moment, and was cut down. He'd nearly died, as well, and when he awoke his coma three months later, he'd found that Eric had been cut down as well by the demon on the scene. But he had awoken before Alan and had gone on trial for his crimes. By the time Alan had been released from the infirmary, it had been too late. Eric had been found guilty and sent to prison.

Alan had cried himself to sleep for weeks after that, and later, when he returned to work, all he heard was poisonous words against Eric. He had tried to ignore them, but a month passed, then two; not a single word from Eric. He'd expected at least one letter, but none ever came. And visitors were prohibited, so Alan tried sending a letter of his own. No answer ever found its way back.

"_He never loved you"_ a secretary told him one day, _"He only used you to try to lesson his punishment when he was caught."_

It seemed she had been right.

Then the day came when Eric was released and was permitted to return to work under high supervision.

Seeing Eric again hurt more than he thought it would; he couldn't handle it. Not when he knew the truth; Eric Slingby had only used his feelings against him. Betrayed him, and hurt him.

Alan was crying himself to sleep again, and doing all he could to avoid Eric in the office. He'd even put in the request with William Spears to not be paired with the Scotsman again, which the supervisor understandably agreed to.

Alan finished up the last of his overtime and pushed himself up, quickly turned in the files, and slipped into his jacket before stepping out into the brisk, cool spring air. Maybe a walk before returning home would help.

Eric stumbled up the stairs, wincing as his bruised ribs stung in protest. Andrew had been in a right foul mood that morning, and decided to once again take his anger out on his 'prisoner', as he liked to put it. Tugging at his slightly tattered jacket, trying to cover up his weakening form (work had been hell for him - he barely had time to eat), he trudged up another flight, freezing as he came face to face with the one person his heart still ached for - Alan.

Alan froze on the stairs, looking down at the man standing a flight below him. His eyes wide. Quickly, he glanced at his watch, gasping as he realized he'd worked through the night and it was already early morning. Of course Eric would be one of the first to arrive. He had no choice if he didn't want to get into any more trouble. But why did fate have to have them cross paths like this?

The brunet's stomach twisted, his heart aching the longer that they stood gazing at one another. Finally, Alan swallowed and slowly began to descend once more, drawing closer to Eric.

"Tell William that I'll be coming in around noon because I worked all night, if you see him." he said, trying to keep a professional tone.

Eric merely nodded, his expression slightly gloomy despite the poker face. Inside, his heart was breaking apart, seeing the one he loved hate him with such a passion. Finally, he dared to speak.

"Alan... wait-"

Alan, now below Eric, paused and slowly turned to look up at the Scotsman without a word.

"Listen... I-I know 's a bad time, but I need help-"

Alan bit his lip and looked down, "…With what?"

"I-I need... I need ta... ta get away from my warden-"

"…Why?" Alan asked, clearly confused.

"H-He's hurting me..."

Alan sighed, "Look, just because you may not like having to be watched every second of the day doesn't mean you can lie again to get rid of your warden. He's there for your own good, and eventually the courts will allow you to be free on your own terms. Just be patient."

"No, you dun understand-!" Eric almost cried out, desperation on his face; to anyone, it seemed as if he just wanted the attention.

"I don't understand, what? Eric…I…" Alan paused, the secretary's voice ringing in his ears again.

"_He never loved you._ _He only used you to try to lesson his punishment when he was caught."_

"…I'm not a tool to use at your leisure!" he snapped, "What, do you think you can reach out to me whenever things don't go your way because you know how I felt about you? I'm not a stepping stone, Eric! If you have a problem—sort it out yourself with the courts or your warden—or even William. Just stop dragging me into your messes!"

He started back down the steps.

"Alan-!" Eric called out, almost faintly whispering after, "Dun leave me... Please..."

But it was hopeless and futile, and he damn well knew it; judging by the voices downstairs, he could only assume Alan had run into William, and was telling him everything he had just heard from the Scotsman.

Alan was nearly in tears; the nerve of Eric! Thinking he could still use him after all his lies - he hadn't even made an attempt to keep in contact with him until after he was out and back at work!

Still, he couldn't help but wish that Eric did need his help—that he did love him and wanted to simply be around him. But that was impossible.

He was so upset by the thoughts that by the time he reached the door out of the stairwell and to the main floor, his vision was blurred by tears and he'd run right into William.

"S-Sorry, sir…" Alan gasped, trying desperately to dry his tears from his cheeks, "I—I'll be back around lunch—I worked through the night on accident again…"

"It is fine- Are you alright, Officer Humphries?" William stared at him in concern, seeing the amount of tears in the brunet's eyes and on his face; it was enough to tell him what happened and he scowled. "Again? What did he do this time?"

"I-it's nothing…"

Alan shook his head.

"I just ran into him on the stairs is all…" he insisted, seeing no reason for telling William what Eric had said. They were just harmless lies…right?

William nodded, though his eyes still held distaste for the Scotsman. "Humphries... This may be a bad time, but would you care to join me for dinner tonight? You have been working exceptionally hard, and it is only fit you be rewarded."

Alan bit his lip and looked up at the dark haired reaper, taking pause. Maybe an evening out would help. Working late wasn't helping, and going home early did him no good…

He slowly nodded, "I think I may like that, sir."

William nodded, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Splendid - I think now would also be a good time to tell you that the Higher Ups have chosen to promote you, to assistant manager."

Alan blinked in surprise, "Really? But—weren't they thinking of giving Grell that position?"

William shook his head.

Alan nodded, "It…is still alright if I go home and sleep for a few hours, though, right? I really don't think I could handle it if I have to get right back to work."

"Of course" William said, brushing past the brunet, patting him on the shoulder. "I shall come by to get you at 4."

The brunet nodded, offering a small smile to the older reaper.

"I'll see you then" he agreed before moving on his way to his apartment, which was conveniently nearby, half way between the hospital and the offices.

Eric watched the display from the upper balcony, overlooking the lobby. A sorrowful expression masked his face, eyes stinging with the brimming of tears as he felt his heart crumble to dust once again.

-x-

Later that night, Eric hung up his scythe and headed on home, grimly contemplating on the new punishments that awaited him the moment he stepped in the door. Coming home after curfew was forbidden; and this bout of overtime had once again breached that rule. Stepping inside, he almost flinched as a bottle smashed against the wall, close to his head.

"You're late." The warden snarled, "What were you doing? Out stealing souls again?"

"I had overtime" Eric said, keeping his voice low and calm.

"Right. Then why didn't you call or have your boss call? You realize I could send you back to jail with the tip of my hat!" he pointed out, then grabbed Eric, pulling him in and closing the door, "You should be more grateful to me, you disgusting toad!"

Eric gagged, his wounds from that morning firing up, causing him to yelp out in pain.

"Keep quiet, filth!"

The man shoved Eric across the room, watching him stumble back and fall as he tripped over the sofa, "You were crying out in your sleep again last night. Crying for your Alan. He doesn't trust you, anymore."

He walked over and put his foot on Eric's chest to keep him down.

"He knows you for what you really are and he will never go to your arms again. Humphries is a smart young man, after all. I suggest forgetting him and letting him move on—He doesn't need you. He doesn't _love_ you."

Eric stared up at the warden, a flicker of fear flashing through his eyes.

"No one even wants you."

He leaned in, glaring down at Eric, tilting his head to the side, "So why are you still here?"

"I-I..." He shuddered, lowering his head against the floor, looking away.

It was true - no one wanted him, not a single soul in the Realm. He was alone, and he always would be. His chest ached, and a tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.

The warden reached down, removing Eric's glasses, "You don't deserve these back, do you?"

Eric reacted out of habit, reaching out and grabbing the man's wrist, trying to get his beloved glasses back.

"Don't touch me!" he back-handed Eric, "Seems you are forgetting your place here, Slingby!"

He set the glasses aside and grabbed Eric, dragging him into the next room.

-x-

Alan sat in the restaurant with William, letting out a small sigh as they waited for their food to be brought to them. He couldn't help it. Eric's plea for help was nagging in the back of his mind. What if he really did need help? What if the warden really was mistreating Eric? After all, the man could and he could get away with it—who would trust the word of Eric over his, anyway?

William noticed the man's fixated state, and frowned, not liking the sight of the troubled look upon the brunet's face. "Alan... You've been staring off into space for the past fifteen minutes. Is something the matter?"

Alan shook his head, "It's likely nothing…It's just…what Eric said to me last time I saw him…I can't seem to shake it."

"Today, you mean?" William's frown became one of concern. "What did he say to you?"

"Alan bit his lip, "He said he was having problems with his warden…he sounded really desperate about it and now it's starting to worry me…if he was telling the truth, that is…"

"Problems?"

"I'm not sure—I didn't stick around to find out much more. I just don't want him using me again."

"As do I... However, if you are still worried, we can check up on him on our way back - we pass through the neighbourhood anyways. A quick check in wouldn't hurt."

The brunet nodded, "If you come with me. I don't like being alone with him after what happened…"

He sighed, closing his eyes, "I thought he loved me, but he didn't even write me when he was locked up…Now what am I supposed to think?"

William reach over, resting a hand on the brunet's arm, a troubled look on his face. "I do not know... I have no idea what to do with him either. He was one of the best we had, always honest and diligent... Now it seems like nothing. Trust is glass - it can break easily."

Alan looked up, meeting William's gaze, "Part of me hopes he's lying again…that he's not being mistreated or anything…but…at the same time I don't know if I can handle another lie like that…"

William nodded, giving the brunet's arm a gentle squeeze. "I know."

-x-

Walking up the street hours later, the duo found themselves within a couple of yards of the small house.

Alan was nervous, sure they'd drop in to find the warden enjoying his evening with a cup of tea and a good book, and Alan would find himself embarrassed and apologizing for interrupting his evening. But he had to know for sure. He still had feelings for Eric, after all, and he wanted to trust him; love had truly made a fool out of him.

The two approached the front door and Alan knocked firmly upon it with a sigh.

Yet in the process, there was a loud crash and bang from inside, the voice of the warden heard yelling and snarling.

"Filthy creature! What gives you the right to walk the same dirt as us?! Just do us a favour and drown in your own blood already!"

A scream - Eric's voice bellowing out in pain and distress and the sound of metal hitting into flesh echoed out.

Alan's eyes widened, and he barely glanced at William before he twisted the knob of the door and pushed it open, rushing into the main room of the small cottage—just in time to see a bleeding, malnourished-looking Eric fall at his feet, coughing up blood onto the stained hardwood flooring.

"Oh Sweet Rhea! Eric!" Alan nearly screeched, falling to his knees and placing his hands on the fallen reaper's shoulder.

"You little shit-!" The warden froze, eyes wide as he found the blades of a long pruning pole positioned at his throat, William storming into the house with a furious look on his face.

"What in the name of Rhea is going on here?!"

Eric yelped at Alan's touch, jerking away to curl into a ball as best he could, shakily like a leaf.

"Eric-!" Alan followed him, but this time moved slowly, touching his cheek gently, "Eric…it's okay…"

Eric shuddered, coughing heavily, covered from head to toe in wounds - scythe wounds. Slowly, small reels of film tried to sneak out, the man's records coming into view. All the abuse, torture and pain the Scotsman had been forced to endure was revealed right before their eyes, the blond himself struggling to stay awake and alive on the floor.

"…No…" Alan was horrified, "No!" 

He pressed his hands against the wounds, as if trying to keep the records from playing, which of course was useless. Tears welled up in his eyes again and he hugged Eric to him, looking up at the warden.

"How could you do such a thing?" he demanded.

"He's a worthless excuse for a Reaper! Disgusting, a shame to our kind! He deserves to suffer so for his insolence!" the man spat, braving against the blade pointed against him.

"Call the infirmary!" Alan demanded, "Now!"

William nodded, though he kept his scythe pointed at the man.

"Drop the scythe" he demanded. "On your knees, hands behind your back. Now!"

Knowing William had things under control, Alan turned his attention back to Eric, brushing his blond hair from his face.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, "I should have believed you…"

Eric merely whimpered, fighting hard to focus on the brunet, his eyes puffy and red from crying, blood coating the side of his bruised face.

Alan wanted to kiss him, but he forced himself to hold back, biting his lip instead as he comforted the man until the medical staff finally showed up.

The paramedics rushed in, wasting no time in moving Eric onto a stretcher, carrying him off to the hospital while Andrew was taken away by security, handcuffed.

"William!" Grell ran up the steps to the house, Ronald in tow. "What the hell is going on?! We heard the sirens going, and then the Bobbies tell us you and Alan are inside-"

"It's not me." Alan said, slowly standing up.

He knew what people would assume as soon as they heard that he was there—that he had another attack. It was only logical, after all. "…Eric's warden was nearly killing him…"

"Wait, what?" Grell frowned, turning his gaze to the brunet.

Alan only turned away, guilt heavy on his heart as he walked out of the house and started down the road. If only he had listened to him! If only he had shown up sooner…

"Alan!" William ran out after him, his long legs easily letting him catch up to the brunet.

"…If I had trusted him this morning, this wouldn't have happened…" Alan muttered, watching his feet shuffle across the cobblestone.

"Alan..." William rested his hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault... none of us knew what was really happening... Your worry saved Eric from future abuse."

"But it didn't save him from being hospitalized." Alan shook his head, "He came to _me_ for help and I blew him off—I called him a liar and turned my back on him…"

"It's not your fault, Alan. Please, believe me when I say that..." William glance back, seeing Ronald and Grell running up to them in haste and concern. "Do you wish to go see him?"

"If he'll let me see him…" Alan nodded. "He must be so upset with me… But I want to grab something from my place, first."

William nodded, his expression rather solemn.

-x-

The waiting room was almost empty, the only people aside from the four men being an old woman and a little girl, sitting far off in the corner. Grell tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, Ronald's head resting on his lap. He threaded his fingers through the soft blond hair, exhaling slightly.

"Ronnie...?"

"…Mmyes, Senpai?" Ron yawned, clearly having almost fallen asleep.

"I'm worried... He stopped screaming an hour ago, but..."

"But?" Ron pushed himself up and looked at the redhead.

"It should be a good sign... But something doesn't feel right..." the redhead frowned.

"I'm sure he's fine—no one has been out to say otherwise…"

Grell merely nodded, glancing over at Alan in turn.

Alan sat in his seat, hugging a blanket to his chest. He'd been incredibly silent, lost in his own thought the entire time.

William glanced over at the brunet but said nothing, knowing it was not his place to speak out.

What did this all mean? Alan couldn't help but wonder.

Obviously he still loved Eric, and Eric had trusted him enough, at least, to reach out to him. But he'd betrayed that trust, and he'd ignored the hand awaiting his help. What if Eric no longer trusted him?

It'd serve him right.

The silence was broken by a door opening, the doctor stepping out into the room, his expression rather grim. There was a pause before he spoke.

"I'm sorry... There's nothing more we can do for him."

Alan's head shot up, "What—do you mean?" he choked out.

The doctor regarded him with an air of solemnness, almost sympathetically. "His injuries are deep, but his body is too weak to heal... He's lost all will to live. He's dying, Mr. Humphries."

"No…" Alan whispered, paling.

It wasn't right!

He was supposed to be the one to die, not Eric! Without asking if he could see him, Alan got up and rushed past the doctor to find Eric's room.

"Mr. Humphries!" the doctor rushed after him, the other three Reapers in tow.

All doors were closed except for the last one, Room 456. Poking his head inside, the brunet paused at the sight of the bed situated by the window. The blankets were drawn up over a figure huddled in a small lump, shivering and wheezing.

Alan swallowed around a lump in his throat and he slipped into the room, "E-Eric?"

The man was silent, in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness. Surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, Eric was clad in a warm dressing gown and robe, socks upon his hands and a heating pad strapped to his back, the doctors and nurses having taken measures to preserve warmth and whatever body heat he had left. Still he shivered, feeling oddly cold and sick. He was scared, evident by the tears rolling down his cheeks and the petty whimpers floating from his mouth. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, only that it was getting harder to breathe and think, his heart beating slower with each passing second.

Alan spread the blanket he had brought over Eric. It was special. They had shared the same blanket for countless nights before Eric's crimes had been exposed. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched Eric's cold cheek.

"Oh Eric…I'm sorry—I'm so sorry!" he sobbed, "Y-you can't go like this…"

Eric felt something being draped over him, the cold fading away slightly. There was something familiar about it, the scent soothing and making him choke up at the same time... what was it? Then a voice... who was it? It sounded like... like Alan. Alan... Alan was here. He was here, and he was talking to Eric, petting him, soothing him... and he... He wanted - no, he NEEDED Alan. Slowly, like a newborn baby, the blond managed to scoot over, until he was able to snuggle into the brunet's leg, whimpering for comfort.

"Don't die…please…" Alan pleaded in a whisper, brushing his fingers over his face, "You can't…please…I'm…I'm so sorry…"

"A...l...an..." Eric managed to sob, his voice hoarse and a quiet wheeze. "S-Sc...ared...h-hollddd...m-me... pl..ease..."

"Hold on…" Alan looked around, finding the best way to hold him with all the medical equipment.

Finally, he kicked off his shoes and slipped under the covers, snuggling up to the larger man.

Yet he wasn't so large anymore; lying in the bed, huddled under the blankets, he suddenly appeared small, almost tiny... Alan slipped his arms around him, holding him close.

"Don't leave me…" he whispered.

Eric let out a rattled breathe, cuddling again him.

"L...o...ve...y-you..."

Alan let out a pained whimper at Eric's words. Oh, how he wanted to believe him.

"Why didn't you ever write me…or respond to my letter when you were locked away?" he asked gently, nuzzling his chin into Eric's shoulder.

"He did write" the doctor said, walking over. "The warden took every single letter, and held them in storage. From what we could get from Eric's history, they were never mailed out."

Alan's eyes widened, "And…mine to him?"

"Never given."

Alan struggled with the information, "I—I thought he hated me…that he had only used me to lesson his punishment—or tried to… but he never…oh Eric! I'm sorry—this is all my fault…"

Eric merely coughed, each hacking sound painful and unsettling. The man sniffled, tears rolling down his cheeks, as he felt his body tremble once again.

Alan hugged him tighter, "…I never stopped loving you…" he whispered.

Eric merely whimpered. "H-Hurttss..."

"…Are you sure there is nothing more you can do for him?" Ronald asked from where he stood between William and Grell in the doorway.

The doctor shook his head. "We've done all we could... He's not responding well to any treatments and many of his vital systems have already shut down..." He looked over at the bed. "If you wish to say goodbye, now would be your only chance... But be kind. Use gentle words - he's been through too much."

Alan felt tears slide down his cheeks and he held Eric tighter, as if he could hold his soul into his body.

William looked first at Grell, then Ronald, bidding them to say their words first.

Grell went first, saying he was sorry for all the things he'd said to him, and Ronald joined in with his own words of peace. The two then left, letting Alan have time with Eric. They weren't blind. They knew just how close the two had been…and how much pain being apart had caused them both.

Grell paused as he brushed past William, "…Go easy on him…"

William nodding, approaching the bed with a solemn air.

"...We may have not gotten along best at times... and these past years have been rough... But I want you to know that I do care for you as I do every other member of my team. I can only hope that you can forgive me for the wrong I have done onto you."

Alan lay in silence, wanting Eric to hold him again, which made it all the more upsetting as he felt the Scotsman's hold weakening at a rapid pace.

Then, all of a sudden, Eric gave a soft, final sigh, his last breath leaving him as he fell gently again Alan like a ragdoll. A bell tolled somewhere, and the man lay still, the light lost from his eyes. Not another breath was drawn, his chest stiller than stone, body slowly become cold with each passing second.

"Eric…Eric—no!" Alan gasped, holding his lifeless body closer, "Eric! No—please! I-I need you…" The brunet lost control, sobbing heavily into Eric's chest, "…You were my light…"

But it was already too late; Eric Slingby was dead, his last bit of life stolen away after years of cruelty.

Only now, he could find peace.


	2. Chapter 2

The day was grey, clouds hinting at rain overcastting the sky, a cold breeze in the air as a group of five stood among the tombstones. They all wore black, even Grell had ignored the color red without complaint that day.

Alan stood in the group, an urn held tight in his arms as he bowed his head, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. The bodies of reapers were always cremated so that other supernatural beings, such as demons, couldn't find out secrets that could hurt reapers as a whole, and it had been hard for the brunet to watch the body of his Eric burned to ash.

Thunder rumbled in the darkened sky, amidst the slow scratch noise of a shovel again dirt, soil flying out of a hole dug fresh into the ground before a brand new iron grey stone.

The sound slowly came to a stop, before something leapt out of the grave. a man of silver hair and black robes.

The Undertaker grinned, though he made not a sound nor spoke a single word, the sorrow hanging in the air enough to silence even him.

William nodded towards the man, turning to the brunet, gently urging him forward.

Tears fell onto the lid of the urn as Alan stepped forward, his frail heart still breaking over the loss of the one he'd held dear - the one he'd betrayed and called a liar. He wasn't sure if he was worthy of laying Eric to rest, but he would anyway. He had been the closest to the Scotsman, after all. With a sobbing breath, he lay the urn down in the hole at the base of the gravestone, pressing his lips to it before standing back, never taking his eyes off the urn.

William looked over at Grell, the redhead holding a trembling Ronald in his arms, staring down at the lonely grave.

The Undertaker watched the group behind long silver bangs, shovel clutched in his hand as he approached grave once again.

"Any last words for our dear Eric~?" he mused to the Reapers.

No one said anything, not even Alan who had said the same things over and over since Eric was taken to the hospital.

_'I'm sorry, I love you...I'm so sorry'_

The words left his lips one last time, as a whisper that was whisked away by the wind.

Undertaker tilted his head, a bemused expression upon his face.

"Why so tight lipped, my dears?"

"I…can't…" Alan sobbed, turning to bury his face into William's shoulder, "I-it hurts too bad…it should be me in that urn…"

William merely held Alan in a semi-comforting embrace, resting his chin on the brunet's head.

"...I think we have all said our goodbyes in our own ways, Unnie..." Grell muttered, hugging Ronald to his side.

"Oh~?"

The man looked at Ronald.

"And what of you... little Ronnie?"

Ronald nodded his head, "We can always come back in privet if there's more..."

The Undertaker eyed him, a rather knowing smile upon his face.

"Indeed, little one... you and Mr. Alan especially~"

Alan remained silent, sobbing into Will's shoulder.

Slowly, the Undertaker turned, beginning to cover the urn with piles of dirt, burying it in its final resting place.

Glancing up at the tombstones above, the group read the engravings.

_"Here lies Eric Slingby - Devoted Worker, Loyal Friend, Faithful Lover Until the End"_

Alan pulled away from William, pulling out a buket of Erica flowers mixed with Lilies, on the grave.

The flowers swayed gently in the breeze, as thunder growled again and drops of rain began to fall from the sky. It was fortunate enough to cover the tears they had all started to shed for their fallen friend.

The 'after-party' consisted of the five (Undertaker joined out of respect and for Grell's sake) huddled in the corner of a small pub Eric used to frequent before he turned on the society.

Undertaker ordered them each a pint of ale, though Alan seemed to down his within mere seconds.

Just when they thought all was done, an announcement came on the radio.

"In other news, we are sad to report that once regarded and delinquent Reaper Eric Slingby has passed away. The Socttish officer, born 1650 in Edinburgh, died from injuries after being taken from the safe house he was residing in, after fellow co-worker Mr. William Thomas Spears and Mr. Alan Matthew Humphries found him being beaten and mistreated by his warden, Andrew Dulcath. Mr. Dulcath is face several charges in the face of domestic violence, abuse, and first degree murder. As much as Slingby's reputation has long been soured by his actions at Crystal Palace in London, it does not take away the sadness and guilt we all feel from this loss. Abuse is something no man or woman should experience and-"

All around them, whispering and muttering started up, the conversations turning to the recently deceased Scotsman.

Alan - not one for drinking alcohol ever - slammed his hands down on the table and pushed himself up, walking over and ordering himself another pint. He was already off balance and he swayed back to the table, already downing a good portion of the drink. "Can't they just shut up?" he hissed.

"Alan... I think you've had enough..." William started to say.

"I'm fine..." Alan muttered into the drink.

"No, you are not" William said, a bit more firm, moving to take the glass away.

Alan pulled his glass closer to himself and took another long swig of it, "Just because I don't like drinkin' doessn' mean ' can't 'andle it!"

"Alan, you are beyond piss drunk" Grell pointed out.

"Man, Slingby was an idiot! Always prancin' about, I'm glad 'e's gone!" one man boasted from the bar.

Alan slammed down his drink, growling as he spun around to glare up at the rather large man. He marched drunkenly over to him, grabbed his tie and pulled him out of his seat, only to send him flying back into it when his fist collided into the man's jaw.

"You didn't ev'n know 'im ya fuckin' eijit!" he screeched.

The man shouted a number of curses, even more when his drink spilled over him. Snarling, he stood, slamming his fist clean against the side of Alan's jaw, sending him flying across the bar and into another man, who in turn punched another by mistake.

Slowly, more joined the fray until a full scale bar fight was underway.

Hissing, with angry tears on his cheeks, Alan pushed himself up and charged at the man who had hit him. He was small, but he knew how to fight, ramming his body low into the man's to throw off his balance and send him to the floor.

Meanwhile Undertaker was having a blast, banging his fists on the table, howling with laughter as a keg flew past his head.

Alan straddled his opponent, punching him the best he could, "Eric was more of a man than you woul' ever be! So what if he made a mistake?"

The man spat, reaching up to take Alan by the throat, cutting off his air.

The brunet gagged, reaching up to try and pry the man's hands away from his throat. Gasping for breath, his eyes widened as a choked sound of pain escaped him. Pain pierced through his heart as a Thorns attack took effect.

William's eyes widened from where he knelt under a nearby table. Rushing out, he shoved the man away, taking Alan into his arms.

Alan coughed and sputtered, his body twitching as air flooded his lungs again.

William hushed him, rocking him gently as someone called the Infirmary.

The alcohol in his system didn't help, as he curled up in William's arms, a dribble of blood appearing on his lips. Alan whimpered, "...Er-c..."

William hushed him, rubbing his arms, back and head, comforting him as the attack came and passed; even when the medics took him away, remaining by his side.

"It's alright Alan... just breathe through the pain..."

-x-

When the fray started, Ronald had slipped away, and found himself walking down the street alone, his feet bringing him to the cemetery. With a sigh, he found Eric's grave and sat down on the grass, staring at the headstone.

"...We need you, you know..." he muttered out loud, "...I need you, Alan-senpai needs you... I was angry at you...for what you did...I hated you for it...but how could I stay angry now? I never even got to tell you the truth...I was too stubborn to...Dad..."

The blond bit his lip and looked up at the sky, "I always knew...Mum had told me when I was little...I know you never knew because it was only a one-night-stand thing...and then you were my senpai... I thought it'd make things awkward if I told you...now I wish I had...because how can I now...you idiot..."

Tears fell into the dirt, "Mum's gone, and now you are too... Alan is blaming himself for what happened, and everything's such a mess! Dad...come back, please..."

Nothing but silence greeted the blond, the wind even stilling as the boy pleaded out into the empty night. There was the crunch of boots on leaves, a familiar redhead approach the grave.

"Ronnie...?"

Ron squeezed his eyes shut a moment, before turning to look up at his best friend.

"...Senpai..."

"Is it true?" the man asked with no hesitation.

Ron looked down.

"Yeah...He was my dad..." he paused, "Remember when I was really new in dispatch and you asked me if I had a thing for him since I looked up to him so much? Now you know the truth..."

Grell hesitated, taking a couple of steps closer to look at the grave.

"Does he know?"

Ron shook his head, "Never had the chance...I was too mad at him after Crystal Palace..."

He picked up a stick and drew random lines in the dirt.

"After what he did...I didn't want him to be my dad...I was bitter all over again...and he had no idea he even fathered a kid..."

Grell nodded grimly.

"And now...?"

"I wish I told him...I was being selfish...I..." he looked up at Grell, "I really am just a bratty kid..."

"No, Ronnie... Come" Grell said softly, opening his arms to draw the boy close. "You miss him."

"...I'll never see him again..." he muttered, letting the redhead hug him, "He's gone..."

"Sshhh..." Grell rubbed his back, soothing him. "Let it out... it's okay..."

Ron broke down, crying full-out for the first time since Eric's death.

Clinging to Grell, "I want him back...I want to tell him-!"

"I know, I know... we all want him back..." Grell whispered, rocking the boy back and forth.

Yet they were not the only pair sharing the cemetery that night - further down, two more Reapers frowned.

"So... Knox is apparently the son of Slingby? Huh... interesting."

"How long do you think it'll take him to follow in his father's footsteps?" the other reaper whispered.

"Who knows... He IS at that age..."

"What if he already is?"

"... Then you know what to do. Spread the word. We can't let another disaster happen."

"Of course not." the reaper agreed, "The apple never falls far from the tree."

"Indeed" his companion agreed, as they two left the graveyard.

-x-

Early the next morning, rain poured heavily across the realm, reapers huddling under their umbrellas as they rushed to work, Ronald included. His bright orange umbrella standing out among the sea of black and grey in the dreary day. He'd turned in early the night before and awoke with his emotions under control, ready to start the day.

Until he stepped into the dispatch building and closed his umbrella, shaking the water off it before strolling in.

The first thing he got was a crowd of angry Reapers waiting for him, their only cheery faces and smiles turned icy sneers and dangerous glares. Two Reapers stepped out in front of the crowd, brandishing cricket bats.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little lion cub himself!"

"Steal a soul on the way here?"

"...What? What are you even talking about?" Ronald asked with a confused frown, trying to get through the crowd surrounding him. "Have you all been drinking? Because damn, not even I come to work drunk! Excuse me, I need to go check in-"

But they pushed him back, the men with the bats shoving him down to the floor, placing their feet upon his chest to hold him in place.

"Don't bother lying, son of Slingby!"

Ronald's struggling to get up froze, his eyes widening. How...did they know? Only Grell knew! And Grell wouldn't tell anyone... But no one else could have possibly - no. There was someone else who could have... but she had been dead to him since he was six when she abandoned him and disappeared from his life.

His mother.

Had she come back? His eyes snapped up, studying their faces. No...none of them were her...

"How..?"

One of the men snarled.

"Interesting ya only come out wit' it when yer bastard of a father died - apple don' fall far from the tree, I say!"

Ronald grit his teeth and grabbed the man's foot that pressed against his chest, giving it a sharp twist before hopping up, swinging his umbrella like a sword to give himself space.

"Who fathered me doesn't make any difference!" he snapped.

The man yelped, falling back as his partner lunged at Ronald, striking him across the back with the bat.

"Filthy cunt! Exact copy of your useless father!"

Ronald cried out, twisting his ankle as he fell to his hands and knees.

"-And what gives you the right to treat me like this? What makes you better than me?" he hissed.

"The fact that we have not sullied ourselves with relations to a man that had fallen far beyond the boundaries of Reaperdom!" a woman yelled from the crowd, the rest shouting in agreement as scythes appeared in hands all around the blond - he was severely outnumbered.

"I can't control who I'm related to! I've done nothing wrong!"

"How do we know?! Get him!"

The crowd closed in, brandishing scythes, attacking the blond like crows to flesh.

Ronald began to panic, standing up and turning to run back out the door - only to find he'd been surrounded.

"C-come on, guys-you know me!" he put his hands up, "This isn't funny-we're all friends and co-workers!"

"What's going on here?" Alan's voice suddenly cut through the crowd that blocked the entrance. His gaze fell on the blond using an umbrella as a shield, "Ronald?"

"S-Senpai! These guys - they're crazy or something this morning!" Ron gasped.

"We are not!" a man yelled. "Do you not know, Humphries? Knox here, is the illegitimate son of Slingby!"

Alan blinked at him a few times.

"So?" he pushed through the crowd and took Ronald's arm, "Weather or not He's Eric's son doesn't change the fact that he's the same Ronald he always was. Where is your decency? Get back to work before Spears catches you! All of you!"

"Senpai..."

Alan lead Ronald all the way up to his office and closed the door, "Is it true?"

Ronald nodded, "Never got to tell him, though... I don't know how they all found out..."

Alan sighed, letting go of the boy's arm.

"They are all judgmental idiots..." he paused, "Are you doing okay?"

"...I''m fine...would be better if I didn't have a bruise forming on my back..."

"I meant about Eric."

"...Oh..." Ronald looked down and Alan rubbed his back gently.

"If you need to talk..."

"I know..." Ron whispered, "You miss him, too..."

There was a frantic knocking on the door as Grell's voice floated through.

"Alan! Is Ronnie in there?!"

"Yeah, I have him." Alan called out and when the door swung open, Ronald jumped behind Alan.

Grell burst through the door a second later, in a ruffled state, before grabbing the blond, pulling him into his arms.

"Ronnie! Are you alright?! Did they hurt you?! I swear to Rhea, I will take my scythe to them-"

"S-Senpai! Careful!" Ron gasped. "Got hit with a bat...back hurts."

Grell frowned, gently feeling the bruise.

Ron flinched, "Ow!"

"I came in to find him surrounded, trying to fend them off - umbrella against scythes." Alan sighed, "Luckily, they still respect me, despite how I was Eric's lover... But my new position probably has a lot to do with it at this point. I got him out before they did much else to him."

"Bloody gits...How can they turn on their own so easy?" Ron muttered.

"I don't want you walking around alone, Ron. at least for a while. Keep near me or Grell-Probably William as well once he finds out what's going on."

Grell nodded, rubbing the blond's back soothingly.

"Gits, the lot of them... I suppose you know the truth then?"

Alan nodded.

"Just now..." he sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk, "...I had no idea Eric had a kid..."

"Neither did he..." Ron muttered, "I'm the result of a drunken one-night-stand."

"Your mother... was she a secretary?"

Ron shrugged, "I don't know what she did professionally...could have been a street walker for all I know...she didn't much like me, either...abandoned me when I was six..."

"Wait, what? Like, left you alone on the streets?"

He nodded, "Spent a week starving before I was found in an alley and was taken to the orphanage."

Grell's eyes softened a bit in sympathy.

"Ronnie..."

The blond shrugged, "Nothing can change it...and I grew up fine..."

Grell nodded slightly, rubbing his back.

"I grew up in a poor family from Ireland... I know how it feels to be abandoned."

"...If I had found Eric sooner...when I was a kid, and told him I was his kid...do you think things would have been different?"

"...Yes." Alan spoke up, breaking his silence as the two talked, "Eric would have taken you in and spoiled you rotten..."

"He loves kids!" Grell affirmed. "When I was training him, we once came upon a crying baby in a stroller... I turned away for two seconds, and when I looked back, he was busy making the child laugh! Though he never says it, he has a soft spot - if he knew you were his son, he would have loved you to pieces!"

"...He had wanted us to try for a baby one day..." Alan confirmed, "He wanted a kid..."

Ronald choked on a sob, "Damn it to Styx..."

"Ron-"

"...We could have both been happier..." Ron muttered.

Grell said nothing, simply glancing at Alan, running his fingers through Ronald's hair.

"...We all regret things..." Alan said, looking away, "Especially now...that he is gone..."

Grell reached out, resting a hand on the brunet's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Alan... Would it be alright if I left Ronnie with you for today? I have too many field shifts."

Alan nodded, "It's my first day in my new position, officially. I have a lot of paperwork to do, I could have him help with it so I can keep an eye on him."

"Good. Will the be alright, love?" Grell asked, looking at Ronald.

"Yeah..." The blond nodded, "...As long as the gits stay away from me."

"I'll see to that" the redhead assured, a sly grin spreading on his face. "In the meantime, you help Mummy with his paperwork~!"

Alan and Ronald both flushed.

"He's not my Son/Mother!" they said at the same time.

Grell rolled his eyes.

"I was joking - though, had things been different, you both would have been mother and son."

"Not like that, though..." Ron muttered.

"How so, Ronnie? If Alan had stayed with Eric, and then married him, and he knew from the start (blaming your mother for that one), then he would have been your stepmother!"

"It doesn't mean he'd call me his mother had that happened." Alan said, pulling out files from his desk.

"Eric would have liked it-"

"It would have been up to Ron, though! And I wasn't married to him, so it doesn't matter!" Alan snapped.

"Alan, calm down, I wasn't trying to offend you" Grell started to say.

Alan sighed and sat down at his desk, "...I'm sorry...

Grell merely sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I know...Alan-"

He stopped, staring at the brunet's desk.

"Is that gin?"

Alan glanced at the bottle.

"...It had been a gift from Eric..." he muttered truthfully, "Before he knew I didn't drink..."

"Why is it here though?"

Alan shrugged.

"It was always here...Just usually in a drawer...which is now filled with important files." he said, again, with truth.

But he couldn't deny to himself that the idea of cracking it open was tempting.

Grell gave him a suspicious look, but shrugged, turning to leave.

"I'll be back with lunch later, Ronnie!"

Ronald nodded, "I won't be going anywhere." he confirmed. Once Grell was gone, he walked over to Alan's desk and picked up the bottle, "...You aren't planning on opening this, are you?"

"Ron, You know I don't drink, especially on the job."

"Yeah...But you did get drunk and start a bar fight last night..."

"I'm not irresponsible, Knox. If I do break into this - I'll do so off the clock and at home. Now here, sort these in that filing cabinet please?"

Ron frowned and set the bottle back down before taking the files, "I'm just worried about you, is all..."


End file.
